The Other Side
by rhetoricfemme
Summary: A long-term look at Jean and Marco's relationship through a set of letters written by Jean's mother.
1. June 2003

I don't own Shingeki no Kyojin.

* * *

A smile broke out across Susan Kierschstein's face, as the heel of one wrist finally managed to loosen the window frame. A recent paint job coupled with Trost's unforgiving humidity made the struggle for fresh air a worthwhile endeavor.

Cool air breezed its way into the living room as Susan retreated back into a novel and overstuffed armchair. A peaceful sigh escaped her lips as she made a half-hearted effort of tuning out the droll interaction between her husband and son, respectively strewn across the couch and floor.

"Dammit, Dad! That other guy is a ninja. Next time let me go for the chest, and work on covering me."

"Watch your mouth or you might wake up tomorrow and find yourself missing some special gear."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

The preceding afternoon had marked the end of final exams for the senior class of Trost High School. For Jean and his classmates, it was the ending an era of certain dependence and a shift in responsibility.

Indeed, the party thrown the night before by Eren Yeager had been largely about celebrating their newfound independence. And then, there was act of putting off thinking about the impending weight about to be placed upon their shoulders. The summer had been designated for balancing time with friends, and hoarding away as much cash as possible before the start of new school year.

A moment of reprieve for Jean, for Susan it marked a sentimental pit in her stomach. It was a reminder of the impending emptiness she was certain that no mother could truly prepare herself for. And yet, there existed immense pride, blatant happiness, and if she were feeling particularly honest, a giddy acceptance of a house somewhat less occupied.

No matter. Jean would be around for at least part of the summer, no doubt lazing and lounging in the days before the University of Sina put a dent into his capacity to think outside of an academic box. What was more, was the fact that he now sat with them now. Voluntarily in the company of his parents, and enjoying himself, no less.

_It's been years since we've kept up with weekly family nights. He thought it was such a pain at the time, but I wonder if he even notices that he occasionally spends time with us, anyway. Well, I'm not about to tell him._

Regardless of the changes that lay in front of them, she found herself more than content for now. At least for the moment, she deemed it best to stop thinking goo far into the future, and to simply relax.

It was only the moment that Susan decided to pull her feet into the chair that there came a knock at the front door. Sharing his mother's curiosity, Jean merely raised an eyebrow, and left her to implore as to what sort of person came knocking during the dark hours of the evening.

Crossing the room, she nearly turned back after a too long period between knocks. And then, there it was again, a little bit louder and more insistent than the first time.

Turning the knob, she was partially unprepared for the young man standing on the other side of the threshold.

"Marco?"

"Hey, Susan." His voice was laced with false informality, and he wore a crestfallen smile. An overnight bag was dangerously close to sliding entirely off his shoulder. "Um, is it okay if I stay here tonight?"

The implication behind Marco's words went straight to her heart. Parked alongside the curb was the old Sunbird he had saved so hard for, and was finally able to purchase during his Junior year. Peering into the dark, she could make out silhouettes of boxes and laundry baskets piled into the backseat.

She wouldn't make him say it. It had been enough finding him standing on a doorstep he had not been required to knock at for so many years. Taking his bag, she ushered him inside, an arm wrapped tight around his shoulders.

* * *

.

Dear Stephen and Judith,

This morning both our babies graduated from high school. Can you believe it?! All the hard work that went into building that makeshift stage, and they were able to hold the ceremony outside after all. Thank goodness we were able to hold off on the rain!

Mikasa's valedictorian speech was every bit as good as everyone knew it would be. Maybe it's just how serious she can be, but the rest of the class even stopped floating that beach ball to listen to her speak. If that isn't presence, I don't know what is. ;)

It goes without saying how proud we are of Jean, but I can't help but tell you just how proud Jakob and I are of your Marco. Four years of cross country and soccer (has Trost ever seen a better goalie?!), three years holding down an afterschool job, and he still comes in at seventh in their class.

You must be so proud of all he's accomplished. I just know it. I know you must wish to have been there. Celebrating him, and celebrating with him.

I know they tell families to hold all applause until the end, but Jakob and I just couldn't help but obnoxiously call out and cheer as they walked across that stage. Jean rolled his eyes, of course. You should have seen the blush across Marco's face!

I've enclosed a few photos for you. There's one of your boy walking across the stage, one of Jean and Marco together, and another of the top ten. All smiles with their tassles and cords. Honestly, Judith, this group may have had their differences, but it's amazing to have watched them over the years, and how they've been there for one another. What a privilege it is to see that as parents. Don't you think?

Who knows if we'll ever see them together like this again.

Marco told me that he doesn't have any open house plans, and that he's fine with it. Jean filled me in on what is going on, however. The boys will be having a joint open house next week, so I'll include an invitation for that, too. Please don't worry about providing anything. We've got enough photographs and even some potentially embarrassing video footage, most likely dating back to first or second grade. Jean "borrowed" Marco's phone and grabbed his family contacts for me, so I'll be extending invitations to anyone who would like to come. It would be nice to see you, too.

I hope you don't mind. It's not my intention to meddle in your family's affairs, but after all this time Marco is a part of our family, too. He's done nothing but put his best foot forward, and I'd like to honor that. You and Stephen can take the time you need, but please don't take too long. In the mean time it just doesn't seem fair to keep the rest of Marco's family away.

I suppose that's all for now. As you know, Marco is welcome to stay with us for as long as he likes. Maybe give him a heads up first, but you're also always welcome to stop by. It would be nice to see you again, sometime.

All My Best,

Susan Kirschstein

* * *

.

.

Hi! Okay, so a culmination of ruminations put an itch under my skin, so now I've got to write this because it's lit a serious fire under my butt. Mm. Sounds like a personal problem, I hope you like it! :-)

This is a rather different approach than any I've taken before, so please... If it suits your fancy, please leave comments letting me know what you think.


	2. July 2003

The near silent pad of footsteps in the hallway immediately caught Jean's attention. Working around the hidden creaks and moans, a few seconds passed before Jean heard the quiet shutting of a bedroom door. He'd never even bothered to turn on a light.

_Marco's home._

Turning onto his side, Jean watched as suburbia lay asleep outside his bedroom window. A lone car drove past the house, washing the tree out front in yellow light. Along with the disruption came a symphony of jostled crickets, as well as the end to Jean's dwindling patience.

Throwing his legs over the side of his bed, he made for the room that had been designated as Marco's, making certain to dodge those same obnoxious floorboards along the way.

Undoubtedly, Marco would have heard him coming. It didn't change the fact that Jean waited outside, leaning against the closed door while listening for any signs of wanting to be left alone. Or worse yet, signs of distress.

Shifting his weight onto the frame, Jean lightly rapped his knuckles against the aged wood.

"Marco? You in there?"

The air around him filled itself with a questionable silence, before finally being broken as Marco cracked open the door.

"You heard me come in, Jean. And I'm not contemplating shimmying through that porthole-sized window. So yes. I'm in here."

"Sure thing, dude." Jean tried to muster his best shit-eating grin. "Just making sure."

Not bothering to return the smile, Marco grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him inside before gently shutting the door.

"Get in here before your mother hears us lingering in the hall."

"What? You don't think Susan knows that two college-bound boys are going to try and live dangerously?"

Jean joked, but knew all too well how displeased his mother would be to catch the two of them in the same bedroom during the middle of the night. He also knew that Marco would not dare break the rule if he did not absolutely feel some intrinsic, quietly unsteady need to do so.

"Sorry if you tried calling today. They shut off my phone."

Forgoing words entirely, Jean brought himself to rest behind Marco, who, sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbed his face in pure exhaustion. Feeling Jean's arms wrap around him, an automatic sense of comfort enveloped him, insinuating that finally, he would be able to just let go.

"It took them a month to do it. So they must have been thinking about whether or not to completely disown me during that time, right?"

"Marco, stop."

"But I'm out of a phone now, right? All my contacts for the rest of my family just _wiped_ away." He made a sweeping gesture with one hand, its aggressive undertone cut short by Jean catching it midair.

"_I've _got your family's contacts. And tomorrow you'll get another phone."

"Why do you—"

"Open house, dork. How else do you think your Grandpa of all people ended up here?"

Caught somewhere between being touched and forced to admit defeat, Marco leaned back into Jean with a shrug.

"I guess I just hoped that even if they were still too upset to come, that my parents just redirected everyone else here."

"Sorry."

Of all the things he could have heard, it took a heartfelt apology from Jean's lips—the apology meant to come from someone else—that caused Marco to break down, entirely. With a single deep breath, tears began to stream down his face without a sound. Jean raised a hand to wipe away the tears, hit particularly hard by this demonstration of emotion as it played out silently.

"I did _everything_. Everything I could have ever done to make them happy with me, I did it. But you want to know what's really shit?"

Holding off any verbal response, Jean accepted the words as a rhetorical question, and drew in closer.

"Do you remember that party at my house? When we first started high school. The only one I ever had?"

"I remember."

"Part of me knew it, back then. When the party ended, and Sasha stayed late to help clean up. My mom was helping us pick up, and she wanted to talk about Krista and Ymir. How such a sweet, pretty girl could turn out to be a dyke, and wondering what could possibly have caused her to go that way."

Jean squeezed a little tighter, bringing his head to rest on Marco's shoulder. _Why am I only now hearing this?_

"The look on Sasha's face—was mortifying. We were just barely fifteen, and I hadn't said anything to anyone. But Sasha just gave me this pitiful look, like she knew, and was trying so hard not to feel sorry for me. And I still felt like apologizing for my mom. I mean, how the hell do you apologize for that?"

"Not your job, man. But hey, at least that explains why I had such a fucking terrible time getting you to flirt back at me."

Marco laughs despite himself, craning his neck to leave a salt-stained kiss on Jeans grinning lips.

"I know. I'd hoped for different, but even then I knew. I knew how it made me feel to look at guys, how my parents would feel about the way I look at guys… And I knew well enough that it wasn't going to go away. And that I didn't want it to.

"I gave them everything they wanted, and more. Not only to prove that I could do it, but because those were the same exact things that would eventually get me away from them, if I had to."

"Mhm." This wasn't Jean's moment, but all the same he found himself wondering who he could vent to about how incredibly awful Marco's parents were. That their only son did his best to simultaneously love them while making a long-term escape plan just in case they refused to love him back. He hoped Connie didn't have to work tomorrow.

"I took the toughest classes, and earned my grades." He continued, as if listing out his accomplishments might allot him some far-reaching brand of perseverance. The only thing Jean could hear was the inevitable sound of Marco's rising anger.

"Bought my own car, then saved most everything else away. There's enough from scholarships to get me at least part way through before I even have to look at student loans. Outside of living under their roof the way someone's child is _supposed_ to, that phone was the only time I took a dime from them."

He was trembling. The finality of his childhood was not occurring on the lawn of some fraternity, or within the pages of a make-or-break exam. Instead, it was terminating at the hands of his parents refusal to accept the idea of how their son was born to love.

"High school isn't supposed to be comfortable." Marco breathed. "And that's fine. Whatever. But I've worked hard enough, and I'm going to make sure that I can be comfortable after."

Unravelling Marco from his arms, Jean came around to face him, running his hands down Marco's shoulders before grasping him at the elbows. The movement in itself, the intensity of his stare, was rife with a sense of immediacy that words on their own could not convey.

"Marco, listen to me." His voice was thick with urgency, causing Marco to swallow the lump beginning to rise in his throat. Seeing Jean like this would have been incredibly attractive, were it not for the circumstances surrounding it.

"Marco, seriously. Fuck them. They're your parents, I know. Of course you love them. But for now, fuck them. Your happiness is not something you should have to ransom. _Especially_ not from them."

Nodding silently, he pulled Jean up onto the bed, moving to lay his head within his best friend's lap. How many years had it been where Jean had always known precisely what to say? Perhaps not to everyone—he definitely didn't know what to say to everyone. For Marco, however, he'd been a source of comfort longer than he could even remember. Years before Marco had ever considered him more than a friend, to be sure.

And now, he paid attention to nothing outside of the fingers raking through his hair. Content for the moment, Marco shut out the rest of the world.

How is it, he wondered, that at this point, he and Jean had been an official couple for well over a year, how the better part of his world understood him to be gay, and no one cared. And yet, on the day he decides to inform his parents as much, they close him off onto the other side of the door?

_They don't even know I'm in a relationship. They were done as soon as I told them I'm gay. I don't think they even realize Jean is gay… To them, I just got lucky to keep the same best friend that I've had for most of my life. Which, I suppose is true. If this were a movie, it'd almost be funny._ _Dammit._

He was so sick of waiting. Tired of worrying and crying. It was all he could do to keep his chest from heaving while ravenous fatigue continued to ride upon his heels. But then, returning to the moment, he watched as Jean looked off into nowhere while playing with his hair. For once, he felt convinced that it wouldn't be so bad to give in, and to stop trying so hard. Even if just for the night.

Drawing himself out of Jean's lap, Marco took up his hand in attempt to ease the sudden look of concern playing across his face.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"You okay?"

Nodding, Marco managed a smile. Neither bright nor particularly wide, it was entirely sincere and representative of the present situation.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Just thinking."

"About?"

Raising onto his knees, Marco took advantage of Jean moving to face him, using the moment to push him gently back by the shoulders. Bringing one leg onto either side of him, he relished in the vision of this person beneath him.

"About how…" Marco dipped low, grazing his teeth against Jean's collar bone while considering exactly what he wanted to say. "About how maybe it's time to be done with it."

"Good for you." He drawled between kisses, catching Marco's bottom lip between his teeth. "Fuck them."

"Please stop saying that. I'm done thinking about it. But only for now."

"Fine."

"I need a break." His words muffled, caught between hot breath and fabric as the two of them worked to pull off one another's shirt.

"Take as long as you need." _And good riddance._

"It's the people you love the most who hurt you the worst. Isn't that what they say?"

"But I thought _I_ loved you the most." A hand wiped blonde fringe away from his eyes while he defied the adage. "I'm never going to hurt you."

"Jean."

_Mmm._ He loved the way Marco's breath hitched over his name.

"Yes?"

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

"Haven't hurt you yet, have I?"

"No. But you know what I mean."

"Whatever. You're feeling jaded right now. That's fine. I don't care."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it." Metal gave way in Jean's hands. He smiled, making slow work of removing Marco's pants. A low growl rumbled from his chest as a knee came to rest gently between his legs, and yet he kept talking.

"You say it's the people who love you most that hurt you? I'm going to prove you wrong."

"Jean…"

"Challenge accepted, Marco. Even if you give me all the time in the world."

Marco let out a small laugh while wrapping his arms around familiar shoulders. Gliding his hands down the length of Jean's torso, he brought one hand to rest at the small of his back, the other meandering to the places only the two of them could know.

Closing his eyes, Marco smiled, allowing himself to become lost in perfect oblivion.

* * *

Dear Stephen and Judith,

I can barely grasp just how quickly this last month has gone by! But we say that sort of thing every month, don't we? I mean it this time, honestly.

Well, after three years of work, Marco recently had his last day at Sports Zone. It's only been a few days, but it's not hard to tell that he's got too much time on his hands. ;)

Tomorrow the boys are leaving for a weeklong camping trip with some of their friends, and will be heading up to U of S only a few days after. Amazingly, Marco's already cleaned the guest bedroom he's been staying in, as well as the bathroom he shares with Jean. I'm pretty sure both rooms look better now than before he got here. You two have brought up an incredibly courteous and respectful young man. I hope you know that.

So, college. The boys have separate dorms. Marco is rooming with Armin Arlert (don't know if you remember him. He's Eren and Mikasa's friend. He's from here but went to boarding school). Jean finagled his way into a four person suite with Connie and two kids he hasn't met yet. I can't help but laugh. As meticulous as Jean is, he's really taking a chance! I hope he doesn't regret it. ;)

I've included Marco's cross country schedule for the fall. He's been training as diligently as ever, and is most certainly doing right by his scholarship. I've underlined the meets Jakob, Jean and I plan on going to. Let me know if you'd like to join us!

We were all very sorry you weren't able to make it to the open house last month. Especially Marco. A few of your relatives showed up, though! Two of his cousins (two boys, I'm embarrassed to say I don't remember their names), an aunt, and his grandfather. Stephen, can I just say? Your father is a delightful man!

Marco was thrilled that anyone showed up, but I think he nearly cried when he saw his grandfather. They were nearly inseparable for the rest of the day.

We ended up with enough pictures for a nice collage. Jean decided not to display his school projects we'd collected over the years, since we didn't have any of Marco's things. I was, able to get in touch with Coach Smith, though. He lent us each of the team trophies Marco had a hand in earning. He even wrote out all of Marco's contributions for each one!

I've included a few photos from the open house. There's one of the overall setup. We cleared out the garage and split it down the middle—one side for each of the boys. There're a few of Jean and Marco visiting with friends , teachers and coaches, and some of Marco with family. My favorite is the one where Marco and his grandfather are making some joke at Jean's expense. I have no idea what was said, but Jean seems rather flustered, and Marco can't stop laughing.

It was a nice day.

Jakob and I are driving the boys up to Sina after they're back from camping. I'll give you a call when that happens. If you'd like to join us, or if you just want to drive your son to college by yourself, just let me know.

If I don't hear back from you before school starts, then alright. I promise not to flood you with letters, but you can expect updates from time to time. Marco insists that you won't be getting in touch with him any time soon, but I can't help but imagine that you'd feel terrible if you were to entirely miss out on this exciting time in your son's life.

Just in case you've misplaced the information, I've included my cell and e-mail. Marco's new phone number is here, too.

Take Care of Yourselves.

Susan Kirschstein.

* * *

.

.

Thanks for reading! A few things.

I mention Armin as being Marco's roommate at college; that he's from Trost like the rest of them, but attended boarding school. I did this because I wanted the top ten of their graduating glass to in theory be the same as the 104th's top ten. Which I suppose messes with their ages a bit, but, meh. ::shrugs:: I felt less at odds tinkering with Reiner and Bertholdt being closer in age than I did with leaving Armin out of the top ten, when in high school, that stuff is evaluated by application of one's brain. So he was away at boarding school, hehe.

Also, so far I've been making mention of open houses. I'm not sure if that's purely an American thing, so a quick explanation. Upon graduating from high school, it's pretty common for families to celebrate by having an open house. They'll make photo collages from throughout the graduate's life, display awards and artwork, play videos, etc. There's usually a buffet or picnic style setup, and the family sends invitations to friends, families, coaches and teachers to celebrate and congratulate the graduate. It's also a prime opportunity for the graduate to receive cash and first-time-away-from-home living essentials.

Aaand Marco's parents cancelled his open house. Tch.

As always, comments are welcome (and encouraged)!


	3. December 2003

I don't own Shingeki no Kyojin.

* * *

White. In the span of minutes, the world had gone from being saturated in gray clouds and drear, to being completely saturated in an unrelenting, violent sheet of white. The conditions would only worsen. They knew this. Alas, neither one of them could find the initiative to move away from his place in front of the seasonally decorated, floor-to-ceiling windows. One of them, the smaller, jumpier of the two, ran a hand across what was essentially, his bare scalp. The gesture did not go unnoticed by his friend, and for the moment, they commiserated in their mutual disdain for winter. It was safe to assume the white-out had left them with a valid sense of apprehension.

Behind them, a wall clock proceeded to tick minutes away from the hour, and they knew that soon it would be time to go. Alas. They remained rooted to the spot, staring in horror at the abrupt winter production playing out on the other side of the expansive window.

It was a bleak vision, as the entirety of their trip was intended to span no more than half an hour. They were ill-prepared, at best. Finally, looking to one another, they raised their eyes in silent agreement. It was time to go. Insufficient cotton hoods raised above their heads, and all spare hands tucked themselves into the warmest pockets available. Opening the door, the hollow tinkling of an overhead bell was swallowed up by the wind as they made their way into the abyss.

Wind-whipped and unprepared, they began questioning whether they would make it. Too late to turn around, they traversed the recently frozen tundra, moving carefully to avoid slipping in the watered down snow.

So very close to frozen, the leader turned his face downward in a vain attempt at keeping the aggressive sideways-blowing winter storm from further accosting his face. Barely able to make out the body next to him, he experienced a pang of annoyance as his companion utilized his recently acquired goods to shield his upper body and face.

Seemingly out of nowhere, the familiar silhouette of a dilapidated vehicle appeared in front of them, ready to offer its meager reprieve from the cold, thin air. They made haste for the car, devoting every last ounce of their mental energy to ignoring the stabbing chill that came with wrapping bare hands around the glacial metal of the car doors.

Tumbling into the vehicle, doors shut hastily behind them, their expressions betrayed an utter sense of bewilderment and discomfort.

"What the hell was that?"

Throwing the key into the ignition, Jean gave a silent cheer for the engine's compliance in turning over. It was all he could do to not immediately blast the heater, knowing well enough that all it would offer at the moment was more unwelcoming cold air. The faux leather that upholstered the seats could just barely be considered an improvement on the conditions occurring right outside.

Groaning, Connie pulled the near soaked hoodie from the top of his head, lamenting that this had to be the one time he decided to venture into the December conditions without a hat to protect against his closely shaved hair.

"Seriously." He whined. "Trost and accurate meteorology are, like, mutually exclusive things."

Nodding, Jean grabbed the garment bag that Connie had used to shield himself from the weather, hanging it carefully with his own on a hook in the back seat of the car. Turning forward, he sighed thankfully for what could only be the beginnings of warm air filtering through the vent.

"There better not be any melted snow or shit on that tux, Connie."

"Dude, that's what the bag is for."

"Whatever. I'm just saying."

"Marco's going to kill you." Subtle, but excited laughter emanated from the depths of Connie's throat. "I'm just saying."

"Let him. It'll totally be worth it."

Glancing back at the now secured garments, Jean smiled. Classy as the outfits were, they were nothing more than rentals. No, what Connie now referred to was the occasion for which the decadent apparel had been procured.

It had taken almost the entirety of a paycheck. Having counted on the expense for months, one would be hard pressed in getting Jean to admit that it had been one of his primary motivations in aiming for more than the meager offerings to be found at a standard college Freshman's job.

Most days, it meant hustling from class, to work, and back to class again. Indeed, there was nothing convenient about the bulk of his classes being on one end of campus, and his job at the student credit union on the other. It did not help matters that Jean found himself to be a veritable shift hog, willing to pick up any hours that didn't interfere with his classes. At the end of most days however, there was always enough time left over for studying, perhaps a bit of socialization, and of course, Marco.

Ultimately, it seemed a necessary act of evil to run himself ragged the first year of college. By the start of the new school year, Jean hoped, he would have gained enough favor to choose a steadier schedule, and make more money without compromising his academic calendar.

"Seriously, though," Connie admitted, "that's awesome, man. That you're going to sit through an entire opera for him."

"Meh. More likely it'll be interesting to actually see it up close. He probably doesn't even know it, but Marco's gotten me into the habit of listening to the stuff when I'm studying, anyway. And it's la Boheme, so it's not like it's an entirely selfless thing I'm doing, anyway."

"Whatever." Connie grinned. He flipped the backside of his hand over top of the now fully blasted car heater. There was something pleasant in watching Jean make sweeping gestures toward Marco, who, Connie was convinced, was the only person on the planet Jean had the capacity to not be an incessant ass toward. Jean was never without good intentions, true. It did not deter from the fact that his was a very particular brand of honesty toward which not just anybody could warm. Honestly, it made Connie enjoy Jean's company all the more.

And now, Connie ventured to praise Jean's hidden generosity while the two of them tried in vain to thaw in the still-frigid car. Appreciative as he was, Jean was mostly inclined to shrug it off, for no other reason than because this was Marco.

"It's just… This is going to be the first Christmas he's spent without his parents."

"I know."

"And fuck it all if I can't stop thinking about what must have been running through Marco's head this time last year. How all the questions probably tainted what was still a good Christmas, at the time. He'd been waiting to coming out to them, you know? So all I can think about is if any part of him wondered whether or not he'd get to spend Christmas with them again this year. And you know what? He's fucking doesn't."

"Don't know what else to say, man. It sucks."

"It entirely sucks. So let him feel like a king for a night, because the only other place he's going to be hanging out over break is with us or working at Sports Zone. Besides, I'm pretty sure my parents will more than likely make up for the domestic feels when they gift us fresh socks and enough deodorant to last the second semester."

"Deodorant?" He raised one happy, inquisitive eyebrow. There was no ignoring the sudden point of intrigue the word sounded off within Connie's head.

"Yep. Like, a ton of it."

"I'll trade you a few for some of the toothpaste I'm guaranteed to find under the tree this year."

"Deal."

"Sweet!"

Good man, Connie… Always knows when to steer things back to a lighter direction. Good man.

"Car's warm enough. Want to chance the ten miles back to Sasha's house?"

"And regale her with our trek through Trost's first freak snow of the year? Hell yeah."

* * *

Dear Judith and Stephen,

Merry Christmas!

Jean and Marco are back in Trost, after finishing their first semester of college! Jean finished with a 3.8 GPA, and Marco a 3.9, so somehow it seems unfair to tease them for any lazing about they've been doing since getting home. ;) But really, we are so proud of them.

I don't anticipate much happening during the month they're here. Jean will probably keep walking back and forth across the house unless Connie and Eren drag him out, and Marco is spending most of his time working at Sports Zone. No rest for the weary!

I'm sure you already know, but Marco spent Thanksgiving in Jinae with his grandfather. Apparently they were having such a good time that Marco extended his visit, and his grandfather drove him back up to school himself. It seems safe to say that neither of them wanted Marco to leave! :) I hear his grandfather's already taken off for warmer temperatures until spring, though, so at the moment Marco plans on spending Christmas with us.

Our plans are pretty minimal. We're not leaving town or anything like that. Just church on Christmas Eve, and sitting around the tree on Christmas morning. We'll be having a nice family dinner sometime around four, and if you don't have other plans then you are more than welcome to join us.

Or if you'd like to spend the holidays with just your son, then of course we understand that, too.

Jean mentioned that Marco tried calling both of you to say Happy Thanksgiving, but that he couldn't get through. That he left messages on both of your voicemails, but they went unreturned. Your son never told me this, of course. Jean only says anything if I happen to ask how Marco and the two of you are doing. Even then, he's reluctant to talk out of respect for Marco's privacy.

I don't think Marco has it in him to say a negative word about you. And good for him. Even after all that's happened he is choosing to honor his parents. Please call him. Text him, or send him a Christmas card, maybe? Even if you don't know how to demonstrate it anymore, just find a way to let him know that you love him.

Anyways, the boys are heading back up to school right after the new year. Classes start on January 5, and they're going to need a few days beforehand to get back into the swing of things.

Both boys are taking full course loads, and will technically be Juniors by the end of the school year! There's something to be said for those AP classes back in high school, now isn't there? ;)

Other than school work, Marco's working part time at a campus chemistry lab. He says it's interesting enough, but has his eye on working for a local optometrist once summer hits. Local to Sina—not here.

That would be the other exciting news! At the end of the semester, the boys will be going in with Sasha and Connie to rent a house! One of those old two-story Victorian houses in downtown Sina, where they can still walk to campus. You know the kind. They'll be splitting the cost four ways on rent and utilities, so it shouldn't be too bad. You know they'll be eating well since Sasha's going to be there.

I don't know if you ever get a chance to keep up with the Springers or the Brauses. To be honest, I can't remember the last time I got the chance to talk with their parents, but the lot of us will be helping the kids move, so I suppose I'll just wait until then. You're welcome to join us, by the way.

Anyways, Connie and Sasha have been around a lot during the break, and they're both doing well. Connie is majoring in civil engineering, and Sasha in special education. Who knows? One day she and Jean might end up teaching together! Oh, yes. He's majoring in history and education. No surprise there.

Marco, you might guess from the job I mentioned he wants, is planning on going into optometry. Sina has one of the best graduate programs for it in the country, and I have no doubt in my mind that he'll get in. Keep your fingers crossed that he gets the job he wants this summer, too!

I suppose that's about it for now. Our boys are growing into such wonderful young men. It's such a joy to see.

Take care of yourselves, and we hope to hear from you soon.

Merry Christmas!  
Susan Kirschstein.

* * *

.

.

Thanks for reading!


End file.
